7 years ago I allowed myself to say out loud for the first time, and believe it, “I am good enough to pursue my goal of being a professional speaker.”⁣

See, 7 years ago was the day after the first speech I ever gave where I walked off the campus and thought – “I think those students were really with me. I think they were grateful I was there. I did not waste their time, on the contrary, I think I was actually worth their time!” ⁣

Before then I was pretty sure I was just conning the system and people were going to find out any minute. Who was I to be speaking to these students? I didn’t lose my leg in ‘Nam, I never drunk drove and killed anyone, I never overcame some huge obstacle or navigated an upbringing where I didn’t know when and where my next meal was coming from. No, I was just a privileged white boy who cried a lot when he was homesick his first-year of college, and was now telling jokes about that experience. ⁣

But on February of 2012, at Florida International University those students unknowingly breathed confidence into my sails. The jokes hit which in turn let the hard takeaways stick. They asked great questions and told me their stories. I was doing it, it was working, I was good enough. ⁣

I needed that speech. Maybe even more than then the students did. I’m still friends with many of the students that were there that day. I will forever be grateful to Franklin McCune and the Golden Panthers for validating that I was on the right path. Thank you.

Have you ever sat back and just listened to a conversation between two men who are acquaintances or new friends? Men, have you listened to yourself in a conversation with a new person? It’s not necessarily surface level but somehow there is still no substance. We tell stories to each other where we always wind up being the hero. We make fun of others that are not there to defend themselves. We tell tales of hookups that almost happened and why the other person is to blame that we did not get any. Or we tell jokes that never get sincere laughter. There is a profound layer of disconnection when many men communicate.

That disconnection can spawn from many sources. Some men may be introverts, who are traditionally slower at letting others in. Some could be tired or lazy and just don’t want to exert energy towards curiosity or compassion. But more often then not the disconnection occurs because of insecurity.

Insecurity causes humans to hold themselves back, to be more concerned with status, and to share less of their story. It forces one to assume more both about the other person and about how we think they feel about us. This leads to building walls, talking defensively, and prevents us from getting hurt. But it also prevents us from connection.

One of my favorite movies of all time is Good Will Hunting. And in one of my favorite scenes, we can see both sides of men in conversation—the insecurity, and the connection. Notice how flippantly Matt Damon’s character is speaking in the beginning. When is the last time you were that way in a conversation? How did you leave that convo: indifferent or insightful?

Then watch the way Robin Williams’ character opens the door to connection. Who was the last person you interacted with that did not let the conversation stay disconnected? How did you leave that convo: indifferent or insightful?

Men we have the opportunity to change the way we speak to each other, but it is going to take courage. Take another man out for late night pancakes and allow yourself to be curious about him. Much like Robin Williams’ character, that may mean sharing some of your own story first, but that’s a risk you must take. As he said in the clip, “Your move, Chief.”

I am excited to announce that I will be doing more programming targeted at men specifically. To read about my new keynote/workshop please click here!

Quick warning, there is some vulgarity in the clip. Please try to push past that and see the deeper meaning. And if the video does not work, here is a link to the video on YouTube.

Last year I went on over 100 flights. I got to see Mt. Rushmore, zip-lined in Costa Rica, photographed wild horses in Wyoming, and was 100 feet from a blue whale off the coast of Cabo san Lucas. Also, along with speaking to thousands of college students around the country and in Canada and Mexico, I got to do a keynote for General Electric and American Express. Oh, and I fell in love…no big deal.

Maybe you saw my life in snapshots on Instagram. Or perhaps you read about some of the cool people I met on airplanes. Did you catch my Snapchat travel diaries? Cool, cool – I watched them, too. Looks like I had a heck of a 2016!

But what you did not see were my tears in my weekly counseling sessions. You missed self-loathing stuff I typed into a note in my phone from time to time. Also you didn’t know that while you were kissing the person you loved or a random stranger at midnight on New Years I was apologizing for ruining the night because I could not get out of my own way and spiraled into a dark place for a few hours. You didn’t catch that one of the reasons I was traveling so much was because I was ashamed that I moved back into my childhood bedroom for 6 months at the age of 33 because I was going through a divorce that I still believe was 90% my fault. I did not let you see my shame, my guilt, my low self-esteem. I did let you see my coping strategies, however. I guess social media is funny like that, eh?

I recently had a conversation with my friend, Kelly. Kelly is happily married and has three wondrous children. I was her RA before she transferred to a school closer to home with a better theater program. We have remained close and whenever I am in her state I make it a point to visit. On a recent catch up call with her she was telling me about her life. The fun things she has been doing with her kids, the way they make her laugh, and how she has to fold laundry while we are the phone because when the children are awake she gives them her attention. She told me about her husband’s new administrator position in the local middle school and how they go on dates to college basketball games every once in while. She skims over her life’s details and rushes through telling me about her world and then at the end says, “I’m sorry, I know my life is boring.”

My life is different than Kelly’s. It is different from yours. It is not better. It is not worse. It is just different. We are all allowed to want unalike things. I talked to Kelly about how just because she has three beautiful kids and I travel all of the time, or because she lives in a large beautiful home in suburbia and I reside in a “cozy” apartment in New York City, that neither of our lives is more fulfilling than the other’s. Social media has given us an exceptional platform to compare ourselves to others. This is not healthy, though.

We cannot allow what we see on social media to be the barometer for our self-worth.

We can be whomever we want on the internet. People post pictures of themselves next to cars that aren’t theirs, with tans they haven’t had in three months. But just because we can pretend to be something we are not, does not mean we will feel proud of that inauthentic choice.

Kelly and I kept talking and she said something like, “Well, I am going to keep posting pictures of my kids doing silly things and if people get sick of them then too bad, because my they make me smile.” Please keep doing just that, friend. Post about the part of your life that makes you happy, not because you think it’s going to make you look cooler. Being cool went out of style in high school.

Kelly is living the life she always wanted to live and she is super happy doing it. What more can we strive for in life than that? I would love be that happy in life. I am getting there but, as you read earlier, I have some action items to take care of to get there.

My life is better than yours because you think your life is not fun, exciting, busy, productive, or beautiful enough when compared to others. So yeah, my life is better than yours, but only because you think it is…not because it actually is. Keep doing you, boo.

If there is one thing the election hopefully has taught a lot of people, it is that we are not good at listening to each other. (Don’t worry. This is not a political post. Just stick with me) As someone living in New York City surrounded by millions of other liberals I was stunned watching states like Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania turn red. Turns out, I have no idea what it feels like to live in “The Rust Belt” and watch people around me struggle to find jobs and give their families the life they wish they could.

And I watched, after a man played on people’s fears and further marginalized people of color, women, immigrants, and Muslims, almost half of all voters overlook those hateful epithets, further dividing a country that he now has the duty to bring back together. Social media looked like thousands of people all trying to have a conversation with their own megaphone. Most of it was an unproductive hot mess. I would be fascinated to see data about if Facebook posts actually changed people’s minds, or if it just caused us to fall deeper into our own worlds, causing deeper rifts between political colors.

No matter what, what did not happen enough was listening to each other. Politics and religion bring out the worst in us. Compassion, patience, and having an open mind often gets thrown out the window. We are so set in our ways that we no longer regard others’ opinions and stories. If we are ever going to progress, this has to change.

We have all been taught at some time or another what active listening is. For those who need a refresher, active listening means:

Maintain good eye contact

Square your shoulders to face the other person

Do not interrupt

Nod your head a various points

Paraphrase what the other person said before asserting your own, well thought out, response or prior to asking another question.

Those all sound great, and sure, they could work. But I would like to offer an alternative:

Care.

Just care, friends. When you care about someone you naturally lean in, maintain good eye contact, ask better questions, etc. It is possible for you to fake active listening, believe me I have done it. But it is not possible to fake caring. When someone tries to fake caring it is so blatantly obvious (perhaps you watched the Presidential debates?). It’s time to start having better conversations. It’s time to start caring.

People tell me they hate small talk because it is inauthentic and surface. The main way we shift from
small talk into meaningful dialogue is by choosing to car. When humans choose to care about someone else they slow down. Caring people are question-askers, rather than explainers and advice-givers. They practice patience AND empathy.

I am not sure when it became cool to not care, but the phrase “zero fucks” has permeated its way deep into our culture. If you don’t give any fucks, then what will you ever be proud of? It’s time to change the way we interact with each other. Start with your next conversation. Catch yourself if your brain wanders and then reinvest, lean in, share something about yourself, ask a deeper question, reflect about their answer. This election did not teach me that we are not listening to each other, it just reinforced that unfortunate reality. Let us be better humans. Let us care.

I am half Irish, half Italian, and my mother’s son, so if I am not stubborn I do not know what I am. I am not good at paying attention to my body when it tells me to slow down and I’m even worse at listening to people when they tell me to do the same (sorry, Jacqueline). If I vehemently believe something, good luck trying to convince me otherwise. Being stubborn is not the worst quality in the world but it does tend to get in the way of one of life’s biggest community builders – asking for help.

A couple months ago I designed and helped run a powerful developmental weekend for twenty-five men in their twenties. We talked about the weight they carry around every day in the form of responsibilities and fears. I asked them questions like:

Then I asked them, what would be possible if they started to shed some of that weight they carry? The fact of the matter is we all carry those pressures. The heaviest part of ourselves is our insecurities.

During the weekend one of the participants asked of my co-facilitator:

“How do you get better at asking for help?”

I don’t completely know why, but that question threw me for a loop. Maybe it’s because his question was super meta since he was asking for help on how to ask for help… I think it’s more, though, that I am not good at asking for help and never really thought about how or why I should be better at it. Then Wednesday, June 17th happened (Yes, the one a just over a month ago. Now buckle up because this is a long story).

I had flown down to North Carolina the day before because I was supposed to speak at a Student Affairs Professionals drive-in conference at Methodist University in Fayetteville. Now, as a quick backstory, my back had been bothering me for quite sometime but I had seen a doctor about it and was doing physical therapy because I decided it was probably bad that I could not feel some of my toes. Anyway, I flew down to NC and had a good day but as I was ironing my fresh outfit and talking on the phone with my friend Leigh my hamstrings starting getting super tight. I later called my wife while I laid down to try and get some sleep. At most I got 2-3 hours of choppy rest because I could not get comfortable. I began to feel like someone was shoving daggers in the back of my hamstrings.

The next morning, the 17th, I could barely get out of bed. Walking was not a stable affair, I could not sit for longer than forty-five seconds before the pain was too much and I needed to get up. I also could not bend at the waist to even try stretching, which is what I thought I had to do because both of my legs felt like they had permanent Charlie-horses. I laid on my back on the hotel room floor and cried on the phone to my wife. I had no idea what to do, I needed to speak that day but I could not move without stabbing pain in my back and legs. I told Jacqueline I was thinking of calling an ambulance on myself. She said I should do just that because I never say I am in pain so since I am now, and so much so I think I need an ambulance, I should follow that train of thought. So I did. I also called my host at Methodist, Doris, and told her what was going on. I said I would not make my breakout session in the morning but hopefully the hospital could get me on my feet by my 1pm keynote address.

HA! Good try, James. That keynote did not happen. Instead I called one of my great friends, Elizabeth Stewart, who works at UNC Chapel Hill, ninety minutes away, and asked her to come pick me up at the hospital and bring me back to her apartment. While at the hospital they gave me one shot of steroids and one shot of painkillers – one in each of my voluptuous butt cheeks, and prescriptions for more of the same. I then crawled in the back gate of Liz’ Jeep Patriot and laid diagonally on her folded seats all the way to Chapel Hill. Here’s another fun thing, I was supposed to fly out later that afternoon to go speak at CAMPUSPEAK’s new speaker training in Denver…that also did not happen.

What did happen is that I spent the next three days in Liz’ spare bedroom barely eating, barely sleeping, consistently crying, and trying to figure out how the hell I could get home to New York and live the rest of my life in this much pain. If I walked for more than three or four minutes my whole right leg would be numb, which actually felt better than the stabbing pain I felt other times. It was ugly, friends. I wound up flying back to NY that Saturday, the 20th and somehow drove my stick shift Volkswagen seventy minutes home.

That Monday, the 22nd, I had an appointment with my general practitioner so I could get a prescription for an MRI. He told me I probably just had a flare up because of the travel “so let’s not rush anything” but an MRI would be fine to get if I wanted one. At this time my symptoms were: tingling in both of my feet, right leg going numb after three minutes of walking, feeling like people were shoving knives in the back of my right leg whenever I tried to move it, incredible tightness in my lower back, numbness in my groin (which affected a lot of things), and lack of sleep from an inability to rest for more than 2-3 hours a night.

Also, that Monday I was supposed to fly down to Florida because on Tuesday I was to attend the CAMPUSPEAK Board of Advisors meeting and represent my fellow speakers along with my friend, Kristen Hadeed. That did not happen. I was then slated to stay in Florida because I was presenting three workshops at the annual ScholarCon conference a few days later. That, also, did not happen. #foreshadowing

Not my MRI, but my L4-5 disc looked pretty similar.

Thursday, the 25th, I went in for my MRI. Having to stay still for twenty-five minutes was disturbingly painful and almost did not work as my legs were involuntarily twitching – fortunately that did not ruin the test. I then went for a swim in my new friend, Kusal’s pool because hydrotherapy was the only thing I could do that did not hurt as much. That afternoon I was doing research for how to best market my book when my doctor’s nurse called and said they just got off the phone with the MRI radiologist. The radiologist made a special call to them because she was concerned with what she saw – a severely herniated disc between my L4 and L5 vertebrae and spinal stenosis. The nurse said I should call and see if I could get in to see my neurosurgeon sooner than Monday, which is when I had an appointment. When I could not, my nurse called their office herself. In the meantime I called my brother, Brian, who has unfortunately lived with back issues for quite some time. While on the phone commiserating with each other, my nurse called back. She said she got the neurosurgeon to look at my MRI and then she asked me:

“How quickly can you get to the emergency room? You need to have emergency back surgery tonight.”

Holy. Shit. My mind took off like a poorly trained dog and it took hours for me to catch up with it. I called my brother back and told him the news, then I called my wife, then my parents. I do not know what was said in any on those conversations because I was scared and bawling. I knew Jacqueline was coming to get me so I fed the dogs and threw a book, my laptop, and cellphone charger in a bag and waited for her.

When we got to the ER, it was packed. After an hour my neurosurgeon Dr. Metcalf, who I had never met before, came out looking for me. He had a southern accent, which was strangely comforting, and he told my wife and I that they are trying to get a bed for me as soon as possible. I asked him a handful of questions to try and wrap my mind around what back surgery, more importantly its side-effects, would be. He told me that if they did nothing about my disc it would be a 90% chance that I would lose control of my bowels, sexual function, and eventually the use of my legs. So surgery it was! My wife, parents, and I weighed the option of going to a bigger, more renowned hospital a couple hours away but ultimately the same question kept coming up: you just met the doctor, do you trust him? I did. I do not know why but I trusted Dr. Metcalf and so I went with my gut.

Sitting in the ER waiting room I had no positive thoughts. Jacqueline stayed strong while I contemplated about how, potentially, my last steps were used to walk into an emergency room. I thought of 347 other places I would have rather taken my last steps. I thought about how my speaking career would be drastically affected and how I may have to find a more traditional student affairs job just to make ends meet. I thought about how useless I would be at home and how much people, namely Jacqueline, would have to take care of me. That, in turn, made me think her life deserved and needed to be way more than that, so maybe I should tell her to leave me when the surgery went wrong. I was in a very dark place.

About thirty minutes later I was on a random bed in the hallway of the ER and they were waiting to move me up to the surgical floor. While I was laying on the bed I checked my phone and remembered that I had never responded to an email from my friend Shannon who works for the College Student Alliance in Ontario, Canada. She wanted to see if I was available to speak to CSA in October. I started typing my response. My wife, quite confused, asked who I was texting and I told her to hang on. I typed to Shannon that I would love to be a part of their CSA October event so count me in! I then told my wife that I was responding to a work email, telling the client that I would love to be there…that I will be there.

It was at that moment I decided being nothing but scared of all the possible surgical outcomes was doing nothing for me. I told the doctor when he came over to me that I trust him and am glad that he was the one doing my surgery. I fully recognize that was probably more for me than him but whatever. I then told Jacqueline that I am going to be ok and I think, in a way, that gave her permission to show that she was scared. I was still nervous but I felt a huge weight lifted off of me.

I was moved up to the surgical floor where they setup an IV and checked my vitals. It was a little eerie because I was the only patient on the whole floor, to the left is a picture I took while hunched over in the only position that didn’t send shooting pain up and down my legs. Since we were all up there alone and it was creepy quiet, I did what I do best and started chopping it up with the nurses. I asked them where they were from, how they fell into the nursing career. One said while laughing, “well aren’t you nosy?!” I told her about my Airplane Friends and she said, playfully, that if we met on a plane we would “not have been friends.” They were great and it helped pass the time. I also called my doctor over to talk about his favorite restaurants in Ithaca and we talked about South Carolina and Georgia cuisine – we both agreed some sweet tea would be perfect right about now.

I called my wife around 4pm that day to tell her that I needed to go to the ER. At midnight I went in for surgery after giving her a tear-filled bear hug. About two hours later I came to, supposedly back in the same room as earlier but I was slightly out of it. I don’t remember any of this, but apparently I moved my legs to get comfortable and the nurse said, well that’s a good thing! I also immediately went back into cracking jokes and talking to everyone like we were old friends. I told the nurse who called me nosy that I have a few more questions for her and told the anesthesiologist I hope he did not get called again tonight (an inside joke we had from earlier). I then passed back out while they tried to feed me ice chips.

I vaguely remember the rest of the night after I was moved to the surgical recovery floor. I was woken up every couple hours to make sure my vitals were good but I mostly just slept. Sleep was amazing because I had not gotten any substantial amount in about a month. One thing I do remember was having to pee and being very excited that I had not already gone, that meant no colostomy bag or diapers for me!

A little before lunch my parents and Jacqueline came to hang out. I ate some surprisingly decent-for-hospital food and then I got out of bed and we all went for a walk. I had virtually no pain. I was blown away and so was everyone else. This was by far the closest thing to a miracle I have ever experienced.

Later that evening my brothers and one of my sisters-in-law showed up. They, too, had driven 4-5 hours to come and see me. I told Jacqueline earlier in the day to tell them they did not have to come, but she did not relay that message because she knows how ridiculous I am when it comes to not wanting to inconvenience people when I would do the same for them. It was really special having them there. We do not get together all that much (so says the one who lives the furthest away) but we are always there for each other when it matters most.

I left the hospital two days after I showed up with instructions to take it easy, not to do a lot stairs, and not to do a lot of anything. They gave me narcotics, which I have since made a lot of money off of, just kidding… My first two nights home I slept for 14 hours both nights. I did a great job listening to the doctor, which is not usually the case so I am proud of myself for that. It sucked though because I had to ask for help and Jacqueline also just knowingly did things for me because she’s pretty great, but that also was hard to deal with.

Do you remember the beginning of this post? It was quite some time ago. I started talking about how stubborn I am and the question one of my workshop participants asked, “How do you get better at asking for help?” For me, after surgery, I would not say I thought about how to get better, instead I just had to. That was, and still is very hard for me.

I am not sure what impedes my ability to ask for help more. My first guess is stubbornness or pride, but that seems too easy. I think the main reason is because I do not think I deserve it. I know how valuable time is in my life and therefore I do not think I am deserving of using other’s time. I would like to think I put in enough good in the world to ask for a little back from time to time, but I cannot stand putting that to the test.

I am not sure what the long-term impact of my back surgery/recovery will have on my ability to ask for help. I wish I could end this with some amazing take-home and tell you I am a changed man, but saying that now would be a bit hasty. I guess my main takeaway is that getting better at asking for help is a process. I am on that journey now. Fortunately I have surrounded myself with some pretty amazing and insightful people whose opinions matter greatly to me and I know are definitely willing to help me…I just need to get over myself and ask. I also know that my wife will give me a very stern talking-to if I do not get better, so that is a pretty good incentive, too!

To try and give you some more ideas of how to get better at asking for help I posed the same question, “How do you get better at asking for help?” on Facebook, and here is what some of my wise friends said:

Kristen Hadeed: “Remove all fear of the answer being “no!”

Marc Sauvé: “Understanding and accepting you are worth helping.”

Jen Gilbert: “Repetition. The more you do it, the less scary it becomes. Be specific. When you’ve honed in on what you need help with, you empower the person you’re asking to give you better help.”

Hillary Reeves: “Help others more. When you know what it feels like to dole out help, it feels less scary to ask for it from others.”

Mary Reed: “I had to change my perception of “asking for help” to “allowing other people in on the adventure.” When I realized that I loved helping people do interesting things, and I was happy to “help,” I finally made the connection that I had to allow people that same opportunity.”

Jennifer Mullan: “Let close peeps know that you struggle with this. Ask them to gently hold you accountable when you are over-doing and under- asking. AND make a note to ask once a week for something. Remind yourself that strong also means vulnerable. This has helped me immensely.”

Samuel Sanker: “The thing that first helped me get past my own personal misgivings about this was when I realized people have been helping me all my life without my having to ask them. That implies that people are willing to help other people without having to be asked.”

I hope some of their words resonated for you as they did for me. I encourage you to work on getting better at asking for help because when you need it the most you’ll be glad you developed that skill.

Oh, and just in case you are wondering, I am still recovering just fine. I have virtually no pain, am walking normal, I can drive, travel, and can get on the exercise bike. I spoke at Yale earlier this week and by the time you get this I will be helping to facilitate a LeaderShape Institute National Session. I am not allowed to lift anything of substantial weight just yet but that is coming. I’ve lost twenty pounds and will continue to lose weight. I still get emotional when I think back to the day I found out I needed to go in for surgery, but that is because of how very fortunate I feel and how thankful I am for proactive doctors with skilled hands. Thanks for asking 🙂

Got to love the emergency exit row on the plane, aka “1st class for the working class.” I’m what you would call an “extra healthy” American so I greatly appreciate the extra legroom. Call me weird but getting my knees crushed milliseconds after takeoff by a rambunctious seat recline by the 5’2” middle-aged kindle-reading individual in front of me is not my idea of comfort.

The exit row comes with its responsibilities, though. You have to read the safety brochure to know how to throw the door out and you have to get the rafts floating. You have to actually pay attention to the flight attendant safety briefing because they give you extra guilty looks if you don’t. One of the most disregarded parts of the emergency exit row experience is the question they ask you before taxiing to the runway: “Are you willing and able to help out in case of an emergency?”

That question got me thinking…what if we asked a very similar question to students and our newer employees?

“Are are you willing and able to lead?”

I am very fortunate, I get to speak to thousands of individuals every year and one of the questions I most consistently get asked when I speak at colleges is, “We have a lot of students in our organization who are not stepping up and taking leadership roles when they are available. So what should we do?”

Let’s have a quick moment of honesty; not every student or newer employee is ready to be a leader, at least in the capacity or at the time that we may want/need them to be. And that is OK! Please note: this means students and new employees should still be sought out and empowered to take leadership roles but we need to realize not everyone is looking or ready for that experience. So you need to use your time and resources wisely. That is why I think we need to ask: Are you willing and able to lead? Let’s break that down.

First: Student/Newer employee, are you willing to lead? When we ask this question we are also asking the following questions: Are you excited to lead? Do you have a vision? Do you care enough to prioritize this role? Are you prepared to hold others accountable? Are you ready to make potentially unpopular decisions?

Second:Student/Newer employee, are you able to lead? In asking this question we are also inquiring: Do you have adequate time in your schedule for this? What other leadership experience do you have or have you observed? How do you handle conflicts? Are you good at saying “no?” How do you handle politics and straddling the line of appeasing those above you and pushing your organization’s agenda?

All of a student/newer employee’s answers do not need to be perfect or fully flushed out. There is a lot of value in attempting to lead and struggling at it, as a way of experiential learning. Also, as we all know, we are good at getting in our own way and sometimes we need someone to motivate us to try something new. A good advisor can tell the difference between students who will be overwhelmed by a position and students who are just unsure of themselves. I firmly believe that student/newer employee’s roles are a valuable “leadership residency,” equivalent to a medical residency – just with less blood…hopefully. But rarely do we ask the questions above before a student is in their position. If we did, we, as supervisors and advisors, would be better at setting up our organizations for success because we bring expectations to where there is blind optimism, more concrete thoughts to dreams, and the idea time management into seemingly never-full-enough calendars. If we approached our teams differently, we would see an increase in forethought among our students individually and collectively, as well as a likely decrease in burnout among our student leaders and newer employees.

Supervisors, advisors, and experienced student leaders, it is time to have more honest conversations with your newer employees, students, and peers, respectively, before they take on leadership positions. A little more work upfront will better set up our organizations and communities for greatness. We should ask would-be (or should-be) interested students and newer employees: Are you willing and able to lead?

I recently was on a flight from Chicago to Charleston to perform in the Charleston Comedy Festival with my hip-hop improv team, North Coast. While on the flight I met a new airplane friend, Estelle. For those of you who don’t know, whenever I fly I attempt to strike up a plane-ride-long conversation with my seat partner. I document their stories on my blog here.

Estelle and I talked about family, cheese, long-distance relationships, our shared love of shopping, and our careers. It was during the work portion of our conversation that my mind got going.

Estelle works in the corporate offices of a major fertilizer company – not at all where she thought she would be working. She asked what I do and I told her about how I speak to college and corporate audiences about authentic leadership and networking and how, this past year, I got into personal coaching. I finished by saying, “there is something special about doing what you love.” Estelle thought about this for a minute and then responded with, “I guess I am not doing what I love, but I love what I do.”

Some may look at that quote and think, “well, when life hands you lemons…” First off, I like lemons, so I prefer to say, “When life hands me douchebags, I make witty comebacks.” Secondly, I did not hear her quote that way. I saw her quote as a statement about how we can find happiness in unexpected places – as long as we are open to it.

Thinking about and pursuing your dream job is fine, but allowing yourself to think that’s the only way you’ll be happy is constrictive at best. On the path to your supposed dream job you are going to climb to a bunch of different platforms. Some of those platforms are not going to be related at all to what you studied or to what you thought you would be doing. They will be in different place then you ever thought you would live, and you will be surrounded by people you would never pick out of a lineup to be friends with. Will you be open to happiness when that happens?

The phases we go through when we transition are cyclical. Here’s what I think they are:

Call your parents or your friends from the last place you lived/worked and cry.

Post on social media about your woes and how stupid things are where you now live/work.

Suck it up.

Put yourself out there.

Find happiness.

Post on social media about how awesome your life is and how cool things are where you now live/work.

Learn about new opportunities.

Take a risk

Move to the next platform

Repeat

In my opinion, if you never get to step 3, this thing called life is going to be quite hard for you and you are going to need to get over yourself. If you never get to step 4 then you are destined to be perpetually closed-minded and you will miss out opportunity and growth that lies in interacting with new people and trying new things. When we do not put ourselves out there then we settle, and there is a HUGE difference between being happy and settling.

One of my favorite quotes by Anonymous is, “Happiness is only place that you can visit but the smartest people go there often.” Estelle is not at all where she thought she would be and working in an industry she had no dreams of working in, but she is happy. Finding happiness in every stage of life is the key, and if you cannot then it’s either time to put yourself out there or move on. If you don’t, get ready to live a life full of what if’s, could of’s, and should of’s. Never settle.

When is the last time you said that to yourself? I know I want to say it to myself all of the time but then I remember how much other’s opinions of me play into my daily life…and then I beat myself up about that…and then someone tells me I’m a good guy and I’m fine again, for awhile. Our minds can be quite the bastion for twisted self-defeatist thoughts. The stories we tell ourselves sometimes serve as excellent roadblocks to where we wish we were. It’s on that note that I want you to hear about Devonte.

Devonte (pictured) is a 12 year old boy “who was born into a life of drugs, extreme poverty, danger and destined for a bleak future,” as was stated in this Huffington Post article. When he was five, he was adopted by Jen Hart and her wife Sarah. I encourage you to read that linked article to hear more about his remarkable story.

One story about Devonte his mother, Jen, recounted was the following interaction he had at a grocery store earlier this month:

An elderly man was standing at the end of the bagging area conversing with the woman checking us out. He spots our son — looks him up and down.

Man: I can tell you are going to be a baseball player when you grow up.

Devonte: (As his mom, I can tell there is a slight frustration inside of him) No, I don’t even play baseball.

Checkout lady: Oh, I bet you’re going to be a basketball or soccer player then!

Devonte: No, I don’t play any sports. It’s just not my thing. There’s nothing wrong with sports or anything, I just have other interests.

Checkout lady: (in a befuddled nearly astonished voice) WHAT!?!? I have NEVER met a kid that looks(!!!) like you that doesn’t play sports.

Man: *chuckling* Right?! Never. They all do!

***My face was as red as my hair at this point. It was so obviously clear what was happening. While I wanted so badly to step in and protect my son from the ongoing racial stereotyping, I didn’t. I let him step into his own power and he handled it brilliantly***

Devonte: Well, of course you’ve never met a kid like me. I’m one of a kind. There’s not another person like me.

Man: Well, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Devonte: I’m here to help people. I’m here to inspire. Now.

Man: Oh, so you’re going to be a doctor? (as he laughed while he said it — not kidding)

Devonte: No, I’m not.

Man: Well, being a doctor is the best way to help people. What are you going to do to help and inspire people?

Devonte: (putting the last of the bags in the cart) I’m going to be myself. No matter how much people try to make me something I am not. Have a great night! *flashes ginormous smile*

My first impression after reading that was, my dude, Devonte, is a boss! The second thing I thought was, the poise and patience that he demonstrated while positively educating those close-minded adults is something that I need to practice. My third thought was, I am stealing the s#!t out of this and writing a blog. Reason being, what Devonte said in his last point is something we all need to say to ourselves from time to time.

Last weekend I had the distinct honor of emceeing and speaking at the National Conference on Student Leadership (NCSL) in Orlando. While there I debuted a new workshop for professionals about the ever-elusive work/life balance and the importance of having a life outside of work and home. Besides maintaining our own sanity, the main reason I think this is important is so that we have more stories to tell, more experiences to pull from when we try and educate or role model for others. I asked the professionals in the room a question that I will now ask you:

What is the story you tell your students vs. the story you tell yourself vs. the actual story?

Now, not all of you have students, but hopefully in some capacity you consider yourself an educator. Whether you’re a parent, supervisor, student leader, peer, co-worker, etc., we all have the ability to pass on knowledge and develop those around us. Alas, I digress.

So what is the story you tell you students? Is it the one you think they need to hear, the example of perfection? Is it the “professional” or “mature” angle? Do you play it safe and cover your butt? Do they think you have everything together and figured out?

How about the one you tell yourself? Do you ever give yourself the benefit of the doubt? Can you handle everything? Are you really going to get it all done on time and to the best of your abilities? Do you have anything figured out? Is this where you thought you’d be at your age?

So often in our lives we struggle between being professionals and normal people because of the great divide we put between the two. Internally we feel the dichotomy between having to be a professional who is getting everything done efficiently and effectively in the work place and telling others to do the same VERSUS being a person who is still trying to figure out who they want to be when they grow up and beating themselves up in the process.

I think that’s where the actual story comes in. Allow yourself to be human and live authentically. At appropriate times and places share your actual story with individuals you can impact. Try not to hold people to standards you yourself aren’t meeting and every once in a while give yourself the benefit of the doubt. Be like Devonte and say, “I’m going to be myself. No matter how much people, [or I] try to make me something I am not.”

I was asked in a recent interview, “What advice would you give to educators who want to inspire students?” In short, my answer was: Stop telling other people’s stories and start telling your own.

Soapbox time. One of my BIGGEST speaker pet peeves is when I hear a speaker quote Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Theresa, Nelson Mandela, etc., etc. I think it’s easy, hack, and cliché. Educators, we are better than that. I personally feel it’s not the best use of my words because I am none of those people, and nor will ever I be. If I hear one more time that Michael Jordan got cut from his high school basketball team or that Wayne Gretsky said, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take,” I may boil over. Shout out to Steve Jobs, Henry David Thoreau, and Eleanor Roosevelt. Everyone who I have listed is amazing. They are heroes, societal game changers, the best at what they did, the most innovative, stupidly impressive and worthy of all of the respect and admiration they have.

But here is what we have to remember, mentors. Today’s students will become us before they become the world’s future heroes. Trying to inspire someone with one of the individuals above makes as much sense as trying to motivate a small boy who wants to be a lumberjack with Paul Bunyan’s story. It’s an amazing tale but it’s unrealistic. Instead, introduce that boy to the local logger who is climbing the ladder of success. Or maybe stop cutting down trees…but that’s a topic for another day.

Please note: I’m not saying we can’t have our mentees and our audiences dreaming big. I am saying that we need to give them realistic palpable examples and steps of how to chase down those dreams.

Quotes are an efficient and effective way to springboard into a point, but speakers who quote these people and then drop the mic are doing it wrong. It is only after we break down quotes and follow them up with examples relevant to our audience that we can lead an audience member to water and inspire her or him to drink.

We do that by telling our own stories, where we succeeded, where we slipped and what we learned from both. Inspiring students with personal and tangible examples of things like: creating change, following passion, being better leaders, making a difference, and/or being more socially and globally conscious will expose them to more substantial true-to-life approaches with to how to start.

Here is the kicker, my fellow educators; your story is good enough. Sometimes we feel the need to tell other’s stories because we are self-conscious about our own not having enough weight. Believe me, that’s the exact reason I spoke for free for 3-4 years. Spoiler alert friends: your story is plenty powerful and way more accessible and therefore will be way more effective in inspiring others than if you try and tell someone else’s. So, tell me your story.